Strength
by Nihongi
Summary: Sometimes it is not enough to stare into the abyss. One must experience it, live it, survive it. Trapped inside the walls of the RPD, several officers must find the strength within their selves to survive the terrible outbreak.
1. Chapter 1

**Strength**

**Timothy D. Tucker**

**Chapter 1**

**September 26th, 1998**

_In his dreams, Jason Hamilton could not run fast enough. The cries of the dead echoed from all around as he ran and ran. The streets were empty with abandoned cars and storefronts, and the only sound was his ragged breath and pounding footsteps. Behind him, his assailants always caught up to him. He dared not look behind him, but he knew what they were. He could almost smell the rotting aroma drifting off their tattered bodies and see the deformed faces hungry for blood. He continued to run until he felt their cold fingertips against his back. Clammy hands took hold of his shoulders and forced him to the concrete. He was being pulled in every which direction, ghastly fingers tearing at his clothes and flesh. Finally, he felt the teeth puncturing his body. Jason screamed out in pain as his flesh was torn by their vice like jaws. He was going to die..._

"_No...no...no...no..._no...no...NO! NO!"

As Jason awoke from his nightmare, he still found hands gripping him tightly. Not from the wraiths in his dreams, but strong, rough hands. Human hands.

"Pull yourself together man! Snap out of it!"

He felt a hard slap jostle his face violently, and Jason was instantly awake. He had feel asleep in the waiting room, while he was _supposed _to be keeping a safe-guard on the civilians.

Jason groaned incoherently and wiped his eyes. _How could I have fallen asleep? _He thought miserably. His fellow officer helped him to his feet and for the first time since he awoke he caught a glimpse of his face.

_Oh shit..._

It was officer Andrew Meyer, notorious for being a real hard-ass when it came to rules and protocol and not to mention one of the best mark-men on the entire Raccoon Police Department force. Meyer light-heartedly grinned and slapped Jason on the shoulder. He crossed his arms and leaned against the receptionist desk, still smirking at God only knew what. It had often amazed Jason how Meyer could always find amusement in the most dire of situations. Here they were, with over half of the forces officers wiped out, the city under siege, and the lives of over a dozen of civilians in their hands, and Meyer was here, beaming from ear to ear like a kid in a candy store.

"It's okay Hamilton." Meyer said. "We're all on edge from everything that's been going on. Believe me, we could all use a good sleep. What the hell were you doing here anyway?"

"I came in here to find some more sheets for the civilians. How long was I asleep anyway?" Jason asked, rubbing his cheek where Meyer had slapped him.

"About four hours. It wasn't long before the civilians started freaking out because their 'fearless watch-man' had gone missing, and they took me away from my position to find you. Boy, I tell you, these people need to show some fucking initiative. It's hard enough having to watch after our own asses but then when you factor in scared, untrained citizens, it really becomes a total mess, you know?"

Selfishness_, a fine trait for a police officer. _Jason thought, shaking his head. Meyer was beginning to become more and more unworthy of the uniform he was wearing.

"When we first took the oath to wear these badges, we took an oath to serve and protect the people no matter what the circumstances. No matter how fucked up it may be out there, we just can't throw away civility and order." The heavy weight of his R.P.D. badge was a comfortable feeling against his heart. He wanted so desperately to believe his own words but even he knew the situation was becoming increasingly bleak.

"This badge is only worth so much Hamilton." Meyer retorted. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

Jason reluctantly followed Meyer to the back of the room behind a wooden enclosure. They walked to the window and stopped.

"Here, take a look out there."

Jason hesitantly looked out of the window and saw nothing that remotely surprised him. He was staring out into the court-yard, adjacent to the Raccoon Police Department. Morning sun rays cast a dream like glare through the window and over the court-yard, but Jason could still make out the figures shuffling about below him.

There were about twelve of them, lurching back and fourth across the once neatly cared for garden. One of them continued to walk mindlessly into a pear tree, its reasoning not strong enough to just walk around it. The others heads were fixed on the second-floor window, their ghastly hands stretched fourth at their unattainable prey. He hadn't wanted to say it before, but there was no denying what the citizens of Raccoon City were being killed by and becoming-----------

----------_zombies..._

"Look at them..." Meyer had joined Jason next to the window. He spoke with a clear sense of disdain at the citizens he once served. "Trust me Hamilton, don't hold yourself to such a high regard just because you wear a badge and carry a gun. How many of those people down there do you think saw you as a god when this shit first jumped off? How many do you think had to find out the harsh reality? When it boils down to it, we're just like them. Confused, scared, and desperate. The only difference is...well, the only difference is we wear a badge and carry a gun. Hmmmph, I tell you, zombies...they creep me out."

Jason felt a tinge of regret prick at his heart. Meyer was right, how many people had died due to there naïve trust in the Raccoon Police Department? The city was in chaos, and any chain of command inside the R.P.D. had all but disappeared. Unless the military intervened, there was no hope.

Jason and Meyer continued to stare out to the court-yard in silence when the door to the main hall burst open. The two officers drew their guns in tandem at the sound, and were relieved when officer Penelope Martinez briskly jogged to their position. Martinez was a new recruit brought in during the summer to replenish the numbers from the disbanded S.T.A.R.S. and Select Police Force. According to her official transfer papers, this was only her first week on the job. A youthful Latina, Jason had often wondered what would drive such a pretty young woman to law enforcement, before finally accepting the fact that The Law held no boundaries.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were with the survivors." Meyer asked.

"We have a problem." Martinez responded. Jason could see concern in her light brown eyes.

"What's going on?"

"One of the survivors we brought in was wounded, it looked like a bite mark or something. When I tried to clean it for him he went into a seizure. I didn't know what to do---

Meyer cut her off. "A bite mark?"

"Yeah, he had it covered by his jacket, I didn't notice until I saw the blood..."

Meyer again interrupted her, this time pushing her aside and unholstering his Berreta side-arm. He started to make his way out of the room.

"Wait! What the hell are you doing?" Martinez shouted at him. The two of them raced to catch up to Meyer as he clicked the safety of his gun off.

"Something you should have done..." Meyer responded.

They made their way into the grandiose main hall. The sound of their rapid footsteps echoed loudly in the once active precinct.

"Listen to me Meyer! You just can't burst in their with a gun! Those people are scared shit-less, you'll only just make matters worse!" Martinez pleaded.

"She's right Meyer." Jason added,

Meyer turned and faced them in a sheer fit of frustration. "What the fuck do you mean she's right!? Do you two even know what we are dealing with? This is a plague! A biological impossibility, the like of which we've never seen before! Do you know what happens to a person who is bit by one of those things? They come back man, they come back and they kill! You think it's just in your movies and your video games, but you don't realize it's too late when they're crowding your streets, banging on your front door, _putting innocent lives in danger." _He pointed towards the detectives room on the west side of the main hall, the room where all of the civilians were kept.

The color had drained from Martinez's face. "Have you seen this happen?" She asked tentatively.

_She wasn't with us last night during the parking-lot massacre. _Jason thought.

"It's not a question of seeing with your very own eyes. The truth can only get you so far. Just look out-side. Those things used to be citizens of Raccoon City. I don't know whether this thing is air-borne or not, if that's the case, we'd all be infected, but it's obvious that the number one mode of infection is coming into contact with them, a bite, or scratch."

They continued to make their way to the detectives room, passing underneath a massive stone sculpture of a female carrying a water basin, no doubt a remnant from the time the precinct was an art gallery. The three of them stood out-side the door. Frantic cries could be heard coming from the other side. Without hesitation, Meyer stormed into the office. The room was big enough to accommodate the survivors, with lockers adorning the east wall and a long table running the length of the room, covered with all kinds of miscellaneous items. Now, several of the survivors were crowded behind the table, frantically crying about in confusion and horror.

Martinez and Meyer rushed past the perplexed civilians, trying to get to the wounded man. Jason lagged behind them, having to lean over peoples shoulders to see what was going on. An older man was lying on the floor, convulsing rapidly. His face was deathly pale and thick streams of saliva ran from his open mouth. Jason could see a horrific gash just above his wrist, it's surface a sickly shade of crimson. A young girl was kneeling next to him crying and clutching his arm. _Probably a relative. We can't let Meyer do this in front of her._

Martinez took hold of the girls shoulders. "Come with me sweety. We're going to take care of him, alright? Don't you worry." 

The girl was hysterical, clutching the old man with all the strength she could muster. "I'm not going to leave my grand-dad!" She screamed. Meyer stood over the spectacle, his gun held menacingly in his right hand.

_I wish he would put that damn thing away..._

Martinez continued to soothe the young girl. Her grand-father seemed to be trying to say something. His lips quivered uncontrollably as he fought to speak.

"S—s---so cold. I'm so—so cold! Oh God it itches! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His speech was again lost as spasms contorted his body. Several people screamed, including his grand-daughter. The old mans eyes began to roll in his head, his irises becoming a milky white.

"SOMEBODY HELP HIM! PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP!" His grand-daughter cried.

Martinez still tried to ply the girls arm away from him. It was too late before they realized that it was actually her grand-father clutching her tightly. He pulled his grand-daughters arm towards his gaping mouth and without reluctance bit into her exposed arm. Total chaos erupted amongst the survivors. Jason was knocked backwards and nearly trampled from the crowd wanting to retreat from the sickening scene. Above him Meyer sprung into action, kicking the old man in the side of the head like a soccer ball. The impact loosened the old mans grip on his grand-daughter and Martinez was finally able to get her free. Meyer stood over the once human man, his gun trained on its head.

"EVERY-BODY GET BACK!" He shouted.

**BANG! BANG!**

Two shots rang out in the detective room, obliterating the old mans head. A hush of silence fell over the room, the only sounds being the whimpering of the little girl and others. Meyer holstered his weapon and took a step back. The zombies head was mercifully out of view from the table but Jason could still see the blood seeping across the floor and splattering the walls.

Meyer then proceeded to Martinez and the young girl. A bloody handkerchief covered her wound and she cried into Martinez's shoulder. Martinez silently pleaded with Meyer with watery eyes.

"_Por favor." _She begged. _" Ella es apenas un niño."_

Meyer knelled next to her and whispered something in her ear. She silently nodded and took hold of the girls uninjured hand.

"Come with me." Martinez urged the girl. "It's going to be okay."

Martinez gently pulled the girl to her feet and led her to the door.

"Hey, where are you taking her!?" One of the survivors yelled.

"You're going to fucking do her in too!? She's just a kid!" Another one shouted.

Nobody stopped the two from leaving. The throng of people parted as Martinez and the girl exited the room.

"Now, I want any-body else who has been injured to step forward!" Meyer demanded.

Nobody budged an inch. "That's what I expected. Hamilton, help me with this body."

Jason did not hear him. His eyes were fixated on the survivors. Men, women, children, with various ages and walks of life, some lived life to the fullest, others not even given the chance to. The surviving police couldn't afford to lose these people's trust. Jason vowed to protect these people until, God forbid, there was no one else to protect.

"HAMILTON!"

Jason snapped from his musings and faced Meyer. "I said help me with the body." Meyer had thankfully placed numerous newspapers around the dead mans head, covering the gore. He under-hooked the corpses arms and midsection and lifted as Jason grabbed hold of its legs. They lifted and heaved the body towards the door. Jason could feel the eyes of the survivors burning through him.

"He's not a piece of trash! He was a good man!" A woman shouted.

Jason and Meyer continued to heave the body to the door. "They just don't understand..." Meyer whispered. "They just don't fucking get it..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**September 26th, 1998**

**6:00 AM**

Several of the remaining police officers in the Raccoon Police Department sat around the stone statue in the main hall. 16 in all, their numbers had considerably dwindled since last night. Jason found himself reliving those events, remembering every single horrid detail. During the late hours of last night, many people has tried to seek refuge within the precincts walls, including Raccoon City's mayor and his daughter. As people unloaded by the truck-full, screaming, crying, shocked and confused, the station was unexpectedly attacked by hordes of those damned things. The ensuing battle raged in the parking garage, where many innocent lives were lost, as well as the lives of police officers. The remaining officers managed to hold off the zombie hordes and succeeded in barricading the parking garage. They were far from safe, but what-ever moment of clarity that could be found was golden.

Right now, Jason stared around at the worn, tired faces of his comrades. The far away gaze in their eyes that he knew he also possessed, a look of hollowness... and hope.

Meyer leaned against the statue, arms folded across his defined chest with a look of indignation on his face. George Scott stood next to him, talking in a low tone, probably going over strategic options. George was a senior officer of the R.P.D., and served as the foundation of the precinct for years. He was often the butt of 'old age' jokes around the station, due to his well groomed salt and pepper beard and mustache, but there was no doubt of his usefulness during the city crisis. Elliot Edward sat cross legged on the floor, quietly talking with Elran Pressman from the Boy's Crime Department and keeping in radio contact with the other officers on point in the station. David Ford was busy inspecting his brown and black Mossberg shotgun, meticulously sliding the stock back and fourth and screwing and unscrewing the barrel. Anna O'Neil was in charge of weapon maintenance for the remaining officers. Another new recruit, Anna was also thrust head-long into the nightmare of Raccoon City. A small, petite woman with short length blond hair ans piercing blue eyes, she had proven her worth during the outbreak, tending to survivors, securing enough food, and handling weapons inspection.

Right now, she sat legs apart in front of various R.P.D. weapons and food rations strewn in front of her. During the late hours of last night, procuring enough weapons and ammunition was a huge concern in trying to combat the hordes. They were woefully under-powered due to police chief Brian Irons decision to relocate armaments throughout the precinct. Jason still found himself cursing that decision. _If only he knew the shit this town was going to get into._

They were down to seven standard issue Berreta 92FS handguns, with multiple clips each, two Browning High Power 9mm, and David's Mossberg. Jason watched as Anna carefully cleaned their weapons. She gingerly wiped down the barrels with a dingy green rag, removing any residue that could interfere with firing. She took weapons apart, cleaned, re-assembled them, and reloaded, over and over. He found himself staring at her eyes, which were transfixed on the guns in her hands. There was a sort of sadness in her eyes, and Jason could sense that it was something personal.

Jason reached for a bag of ammunition lying between them. As he grabbed hold of the bags strap, he felt another hand cover his, a warm, delicate hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Anna gasped.

"It's alright." Jason assured her. "I was actually just, uh -----"

Anna smiled sheepishly and blushed.

She reached for another gun to clean when the east end door to the main hall opened. The officers attention turned to the door as Martinez returned to join them. _She looks like hell_. Her eyes were blood-shot from crying and her shoulders slumped in a defeated posture. She averted her gaze away from her fellow officers and eased down to the floor. A hush fell over the other officers. Meyer had no doubt informed them of the infected girl.

"I...I couldn't do it." Martinez said in a low tone.

"Where is she?" Meyer asked.

Martinez wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sobbed.

"I took her to the interrogation room. I cleaned her wound, gave her plenty of food and water. I told her we were coming back for her, I said everything was going to be okay..."

Anna put her arm around her as she began to sob uncontrollably. Meyer brushed his brown hair back and sighed.

"Alright, now I guess we can get started." He said.

Elliot cleared his throat and began speaking. "As you are all well aware, the seizure of the various armaments scattered throughout the precinct should be our first priority."

He wasn't saying anything that the other cops already didn't know. They knew their weapons were running thin, and with every bullet fired and zombie put down, it was just like adding one more nail to their coffin.

Elliot took a map out of his pocket and spread it on the floor. Several red "X's" marked various points on the map, along with hastily scribbled writing. The other officers were listening intently except for Martinez, who was still being tended to by Anna, and David, who continued to toy with his Mossberg, cocking it back and fourth.

"Now, I've Xed all the various spots where these armaments may be located. Storage rooms, the east wing, and such. Now, if we can just-----"

"Wait a minute." George interjected. "Let me take a look at that map."

Elliot reluctantly gave over the map, a look of confusion etched on his face. George studied the map for a couple of seconds and chuckled, a low guttural chortle.

"Just as I thought. This map is as old as dirt. This was taken from the time when the station used to be an art museum Hell, some of these rooms aren't even there anymore!"

"What? Let me see that!" Elliot snatched the map from George's hands. After studying the map, Elliot tossed it to the floor, visibly embarrassed. "You know how long it took me to find that map? Fuck it..."

George let out another chuckle and slapped Elliot on the shoulder. "Don't be a poor sport. We all appreciate your actions, we just need to find an updated map. I'm sure a quick search of the computers database will give us what we need. Besides, instead of going off on a wild goose chase for these armaments, we should be focusing on the underground weapons storage----------"

_CHE-CHIK!!!_

David loudly cocked his shotgun. Jason, Elliot, and George turned their attention to him. He was not looking well. Despite his young age, gray streaks were beginning to form in his jet-black hair and beard, and deep bags marked his sharp gray eyes.

"Say Dave, you want to give that thing over to O'Neil? You haven't let go of it since last night." George asked, referring to his Mossberg.

"No,,,,,,,,,," David replied, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"How much ammo you got for that thing?" George continued.

David grabbed a brown shoulder harness and dropped it to the floor. It fell with a heavy clang and a single shot-gun shell slipped out.

"Lots..."

Jason could not find it in himself to judge David's demeanor. They all had their own ways of coping with the disaster. David was a good cop, always friendly and helpful, but the situation was just beginning to take a toll on him.

Meyer interjected in on the increasingly uncomfortable scene. "The underground weapons storage is useless. The cop that was in charge of the key-card is missing. We'll never be able to find him."

Elliot sighed and shook his head. "Well, it seems like we only got two options: first, try to find the hidden armaments in the precinct, and second, find the key-card to the weapons storage. It's the only chance we've got if we're going to hold off those things for much longer. I'll inform B and C teams of our decision. We'll reconvene at 13:00 sharp. That's all people."

Agitation, uncertainty, fear, it was all starting to kick in. Ever since last night there chain if command was thrown in a spiral of chaos. Now, there seemed to be an imminent power struggle between George, Meyer, and Elliot, each one competing for their colleagues trust.

Elliot was about to say something else when his police radio crackled to life. A burst of static emanated from the radio and the frantic voices of squad A could be heard.

"_**...Elliot! We're in deep at the west end corridor! The barricade isn't holding!...**_Jason could hear the sound of gunfire coming from the radio, and the unmistakable _moans _of the zombies. _**"...Requesting back-up! Oh shit..." **_The sound of splintering wood and glass breaking was the last thing they heard before the radio went dead.

"Hamilton, Meyer, George, let's go.!" Elliot demanded. The four officers took their weapons and headed for the west wing. Before they left, Jason's eyes met Anna's. There was a brief silent pause as he hurried past her.

"Be careful." She said.

Jason nodded and followed the others through a door leading to the west wing. They raced past the receptions desk, once teeming with life, and through to the first-floor corridor.

"Hey Elliot, I wonder how many of those fucking zeds I can take out!?" Meyer shouted as they ran.

"You're horrible." Elliot spat.

Meyer darted his tongue out and cackled with glee. _Maybe it's not so bad having a sick bastard like him on our side. _Jason thought.

"I'll take point, the rest of you cover me!" Elliot ordered.

Gun-fire was erupting from the closed door just in front of them. Elliot rushed through the hall-way and seized the door-knob, ready to go in, when the door suddenly burst open. Elliot was knocked back-wards as a body stumbled into the hall-way. It was an officer, firing blindly with one arm as he screamed and flailed about in pain. Deep patches of blood smeared his uniform, along with something else. A thick, sickly green substance. As the officer continued to thrash about, Jason could see morbid figures forming in the door-way behind him, and the familiar stench of rotting flesh fell over them like a thick blanket.

_Oh shit, here they come._

Three zombies lurched into the hall-way, relentlessly clawing at the injured officer. Elliot tried avoid the struggle happening just above him but he was too late as the lumbering bodies collapsed over him.

"Elliot!" George cried. Elliot lay trapped as the zombies tore into the officer above him. He thrashed about and tried to crawl under the bodies, but they were too heavy. He would die if they didn't do something.

Meyer's gun was the first to go off. Jason watched as a bullet ripped through one of the zombies skulls, destroying its brain.

"GET THEM THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" Elliot cried.

Jason took careful aim at the closest zombie threatening Elliot and fired. The shot tore through the zombies temple and it toppled over, once more lifeless. George fired his weapon off, killing the last zombie pinning Elliot and the other officer down. The three of them rushed to Elliot's side, pulling him from underneath the mountain of dead bodies. He was covered in blood, and his eyes roamed the hall fiercely, darting back and fourth in extreme anxiety.

"Were you bit!?" George asked. "Were you bit!?"

Elliot desperately tried to wipe the blood from his face but only succeeded in smearing it further. "What!? No, fuck no! Go help the others! I'm fine!"

Jason, Meyer, and George bounded into the west-end hall-way, and found it to be a slaughter-house. Thick smears of blood caked the walls and broken glass and boards that once served as the barricades to the windows lay useless on the ground. The remaining three officers of A squad were being massacred, there was no one left to help. Zombies ripped through the remaining barricades, pulling the bodies of the officers through. Jason could hear their dying screams and the sound of their flesh being torn from their bodies. Meyer's gun fired again, killing two zombies struggling over the remains of an officer. Jason centered on one closest to him, a female in the remains of a blouse and skirt, and fired. The shot went wild, narrowly missing the coming wraith.

_Concentrate..._

Jason fired again. The bullet drove the zombie back as it connected with the side of its neck, another shot and the zombie was down, blood gushing through the hole in its eye. Their three guns echoed in unison, eradicating anything dead in the hall. George picked off the last one, and everything was still in the hall-way. Jason found a dry patch of wall and leaned heavily against it. The horrible smell of death and gunpowder was making him nauseous.

"Hey Elliot!" Mayer called out.

Elliot was on his feet, using the inside of his shirt to wipe the blood off of his face. "What!?"

Meyer held up his free hand, all fingers extended. "I got five." He said, smirking defiantly from ear to ear.

Elliot stared at Meyer with a perplexed look on his face and just shook his head. "You belong out there with them you fucking animal!" He screamed.

Meyer began laughing. "Trust me, you need someone like me on your side. We got to find some more materials to put these barricades back up, let's move!"

Jason, George, and Meyer exited the hall-way past Elliot, who just stood there with a look of vexation on his face.

"By the way, Elliot" Meyer said "...You've got red on you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**September 26th, 1998**

**Night**

Spirits were pretty apathetic amongst the survivors. Jason, Anna, and Elran were helping to pass out supplies to the citizens lucky enough to be among the populations living. Jason knew that it was hard on every-body involved. Being up-rooted from friends, family, having their entire lives turned up-side down, but it was no use making the worst out of the situation. They were all in this mess _together_, and needed to work _together _to ensure each others survival.

Jason took a bottle of water and a pack of adravil. Ever since the battle in the west end corridor he suffered from a splitting head-ache. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he could still smell the putrid flesh and blood. Jason pushed the images from his mind and opened the pack of adravil. He slipped two pills into his mouth and washed them down with the water. The liquid felt cool and refreshing traveling down his throat. He capped the bottle and looked at the blue adravil package. The red and white octagonal symbol was a familiar sight to anyone working in Raccoon City, if not the world.

_Umbrella..._

They were no doubt handling emergencies throughout the city on their own accord, but Jason hadn't heard anything about it. About thirty percent of Raccoons population was employed by Umbrella anyway, so it seemed likely that they would at least intervene in some way.

Jason pocketed the adravil and continued to hand out food and water. Some people snatched the supplies in hostility, others silently took them without hesitation, and others refused them all-together. Jason came across a worn looking man wearing a wrinkled button down shirt, brown slacks, and a red tie. A loose pony-tail hung from his unkempt red hair and he strangely smiled at Jason as he handed him a bottle of water.

"Thank you officer." The man said.

"You're welcome." Jason replied. He began to walk away when the man stopped him.

"Say officer, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I really don't have the time now-----"

"Ah, come on! We got all the time in the world."

Jason sighed and looked around the room. Anna and Elran were still passing out supplies to the other survivors. "Alright, what can I do for you?"

The man smiled again and said, "no, not here, let's go some-where a little private."

_Private? _"Just what is it you want to talk to me about?" Jason asked, flustered.

"Trust me..." The man said.

Jason followed him to the back of the detectives room into a small enclosed office. The man leaned against a wooden desk and stretched. "Man, it sure is crazy out there, eh?"

Jason was becoming weary of the mans stalling. If he had something to say, spit it out already. The man could obviously see the unrest in Jason's face, as he straightened out.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you like this officer, my name is Ben Bertolucci."

_Ben Bertolucci..._

Jason had heard his name before. It was from the Daily Raccoon Newspaper. Bertolucci was a reporter. "I'm familiar with your work." Jason said.

"Oh really? Glad to see someone is reading my stuff. Hah, take that Ashcroft!"

Bertolucci began laughing and then calmed. Jason was becoming more confused by the moment. "What is it that you want?" Jason inquired, his voice raising a little.

"I was wondering if you knew the cause of all of this mess that's been going on."

Jason wasn't sure what Bertolucci was expecting to hear. He was just like every-body else when the shit hit the fan. He knew that the answers would reveal them-selves in due time, but right now all they had to worry about was surviving. "Sorry, but I don't have a clue as to how this shit started."

Bertolucci nodded. "Well, that's a bummer. Must sucks being left out in the cold huh?"

Jason leaned against a safe positioned in the corner and folded his arms. "What are you trying to say, you know something about what's going on?"

"Maybe, look, we just didn't wake up yesterday morning and have zombies banging on our front doors did we? This shit has been building for months, and the keg has finally exploded."

Jason wasn't sure what Bertolucci was getting at. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the cannibal murders in the Arklay Mountains back in the early summer..."

Jason recalled the events of that past summer. The string of random and brutal murders that occurred in the Arklay Mountain forest region. The Raccoon Police Departments S.T.A.R.S. had been sent it investigate the crimes, but were discredited after reports of "ludicrous creatures" and "conspiracy theories". The official police reports classified the murders as "unsolved" and the case went cold.

"There was a mansion in the Arklay forest, owned and operated by the Umbrella Corporation. It's gone now, destroyed in an explosion. It was actually a front for the companies illegal activities." Bertolucci continued. "Viral experimentation, genetic engineering, you name it."

Jason felt his blood run cold. "Viral...?" he asked.

Bertolucci leaned closer. "Yep, viral. Umbrella was working on something in that mansion. This shit happening around us...it wasn't no accident."

It all sounded so surreal, and yet Jason easily found himself being led into the reporters tale.

"Do you have any proof of this?" Jason demanded.

Bertolucci sighed. "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get my hands on anything concrete...yet. I believe that police chief Irons was taking bribes from the corporation to cover everything up."

"Chief Irons!? What in the world?"

"How else do you think the S.T.A.R.S. were discredited so easy? Irons is on Umbrella's pay-roll. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the mayor was too, even senators!"

The thought of all of this was too much. _Umbrella creating_ _viruses that turn people into zombies? They leak it into the city, causing untold amounts of devastation?_

"But Umbrella is Raccoon City's biggest benefactor. Over a quarter of the population is employed by them. Why would they do something like this?"

Bertolucci shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not. It sure does feel good to put a human face behind this shit though. I tell you, when this is all over, heads are going to roll. Literally." He paused. "Unless they already have a cover planned for this too..."

"No way they can cover something like this up!" Jason exclaimed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Yesterday, Umbrella personnel were being evacuated by the dozens, I'm talking scientist, researchers, directors. Not only that, but the military blockaded off several roads leading out of the city. They knew this was going to happen!"

Bertolucci slammed his fist down on the desk. "There may not be a way Umbrella can keep this in the dark, but I betcha they have a fall guy, mark my words..."

The two of them sat there in silence, Jason still trying to let everything he had just heard sink in.

"Have you seen chief Irons?" Bertolucci finally asked, breaking the silence.

Jason tried to remember the last time seeing the man. "It was last night in the parking garage. I saw him taking cover with the mayors daughter. I'm not sure if they got out."

"Well, if they did, I think we need to have a little talk with Irons."

Bertolucci raised off of the desk. "Man, I tell you, if we do get out of here alive this shit is going to make my career!" He heartedly laughed and exited the room, leaving Jason all alone.

_Umbrella..._It was unfathomable to think that they would have had anything to do with any of this but now the pieces of a horrible puzzle seemed to be falling into place. No-body saw it, every-one just going about their routine lives, until it was too late. _Damn them..._

Jason felt a light weight pressing against the pocket of his pants. He took out the pack of Adravil and stared at it, at the red and white insignia.

He tossed the pack of adravil into the trash and left to find the other officers. He was sure they would be interested in Bertolucci's story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

While on the hunt for materials to barricade the west end corridor, Meyer and George had come across police chief Iron's personal 'treasure room.' Remnants from the station being an art museum, Irons had looted countless artifacts over the years for his own private amusement. Meyer stared around the room in disgust. _Here we have police in other parts of the world can't even afford bullets and this fat bastard is sitting on ivory and gold. _Meyer thought bitterly. Pretentiously decorated vases and bust adorned the dreary walls along with a plethora of unopened crates. Two stone reliefs of highly decorated females flanked a larger sarcophagus looking one at the far end of the wall and a stylized mosaic circular ceiling shined on them from above.

"Well, no one can ever accuse the chief of being a Philistine, eh?" George joked.

"I guess not. Come on, let's get started." Meyer walked to the nearest crate and lifted it off the ground. It was covered in red tape that read 'replica Aztec spears: handle with care.' Meyer lifted the crate above his head and with all of his might threw it to the stone floor. The crate splintered and burst open with a thunderous ovation. Meyer kicked the useless spears to the side and collected the wooden remains.

"Try not to break the boards, Meyer." George insisted. He was busy trying to pry the boards loose by hand, straining against the nails punctured into them.

_Takes too long. _Meyer thought. He picked up another crate, a heavy cube shaped one and tossed it against the wall. It exploded on impact, slivers of wood and nails raining to the floor. A battered black cauldron lazily rolled from the wreckage and toppled over.

"Jesus Christ, I can't tell you nothing, can I!?"

"Well, if you want to do things the slow way, be my guest." George was still struggling with the first crate. He sighed and lifted it off the ground. With a deep grunt, he threw the crate against the wall of vases in a deafening roar of noise. George chuckled and dusted his hands. "Well, I guess it is more practical!"

They continued to work, breaking boards, collecting planks, admiring pieces of art, and then destroying them. Meyer was sifting through the remains of a priceless hand-crafted Cherokee stand when George started talking.

"Say Meyer, you were pretty intense back in that hall-way. If I didn't know any better I would say you were enjoying yourself."

Meyer looked at George and smiled. Truthfully, he had felt something during those battles with the zombies. An excitement in the pit of his stomach, a surge of euphoria, something he hadn't felt since 1991...

"Look, if you're trying to judge me, go ahead. I'd be lying to you if I told you a part of me wasn't enjoying this, but sometimes that type of mentality helps, it keeps you on edge, keeps you alive."

George chuckled again. "Well, excuse me for questioning your 'killer instincts.'

He scooted closer to Meyer. "So...how many people have you killed?"

Meyer looked at George in confusion. _Just what is he trying to pull? _"There is a difference between killing something that's already dead and killing a living, breathing human being."

George backed away in mock surprise. "I guess you must not have saw much action in Kuwait then, huh?"

Meyer continued to collect the broken boards, not letting George see the change in his demeanor. He knew that it was bound to come out sooner or later. What mattered now was how much he actually knew.

"So, where did you find out about this?" Meyer asked coolly.

"I had a friend of mine at the federal office run a little back-round check on you. How strange is it for a recruit fresh out of police academy to rise in the ranks of the R.P.D. so fast? Become a member of the Select Police Force , even have a brief stint for the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team. All the while his past being a secret, no one knowing who he was or where he came from. Well, I know now. Private First Class Andrew Meyer, United States Marine Corps., served in Kuwait back in 1991 during Desert Storm. Dishonorably Discharged after allegations of sexual assault against an Iraqi girl. Spent 18 months in Leavenworth until his record was mysteriously expunged. Flash forward five years later, he lands a position in the Raccoon City Police Department. Am I right so far?"

Meyer nodded his head, impressed. "It looks like you did your homework."

"But what I want to know is how did a woman raping-gung ho-son of a bitch like you get to join the force?"

Meyer smiled. "Let's get one thing straight right now. I never raped any-body." He reached into his pocket and removed a photograph. It was the one he kept ever since the war, never letting it go. All sentimentality aside, he used it as a constant reminder. The photo showed Meyer and another man standing in front of a M1 Abrams tank. They were wearing army fatigues of drab brown and tan, guns held high in a sign of victory, and beaming from ear to ear. Meyer slid the photo over to George.

"Who is this?" George asked, studying the photograph.

"That's me and one of my old marine buddies, Michael Irons."

"Michaels Irons...?" George whispered. "Well, I'll be damned, that's chief Irons son."

Meyer nodded. "I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't allow Michael to go down like that, so-----"

"You took the fall." George finished.

"Yep."

George shook his head and gave the picture back to Meyer. "I don't know if that was incredibly admirable or incredibly stupid."

"Well, I guess in the long run it worked out. Turned out that Mike's father was running for city mayor at around the same time. He used what-ever little influence he could to get me out of Leavenworth and wipe my record clean. Even promised me a job once he became mayor. He ended up losing, and had to resort to chief of police, and the rest is history."

He had never told any-body any of this, but he figured since the world was falling apart around them any-way, it really didn't matter.

"I think that's enough wood for the barricades, let's get out of here." George said.

They gathered the wood and made their way out of the room. As they passed police chief Irons office Meyer paused and stared at the door. Even though Irons had saved his life all those years ago, Meyer felt he owed the chief nothing. As far as he was concerned chief Bryan Irons was a manipulative coward. _He should be here with us fighting... if he isn't already dead that is. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

To say that Elliot had mis-givings about entering back into the west side corridor was an understatement. The smell of death was still thick in the air, and along with the blood smeared walls, Elliot found himself becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. Meyer, David, and Jason accompanied him to help re-barricade the windows. He hung back as they were removing the bodies out of their way, afraid to get to close to their motionless corpses. The thought of those bodies writhing and tearing for him sent a chill down his spine.

"Hey Elliot, why don't you give us a hand?" Meyer mocked.

Elliot was pretending to sort out the boards, hammers, and nails. "Why don't you just do your job and let me do mine?"

Meyer chuckled and lifted another body up. The skin of its arm slid off in a meaty slush. Elliot turned away in disgust, vomit threatening to rise in his stomach. Meyer chuckled louder and threw the gangrenous skin at Elliot's feet in a wet plop.

"_Fuck you..." _Elliot whispered through his hand.

Once the bodies were cleared, they began the arduous task of boarding up the windows again. Board by board, nail by nail, they pounded, covering every inch, reinforcing it stronger than before so that another massacre wouldn't occur. Elliot watched Meyer out of the corner of his eye, and cursed him. _That sick bastard..._he thought bitterly. This was all just a game to him. He was trying to use intimidation and bravado to Bogart his way into a position of power.

_Not with me though...it's not going to work with me._

As he continued to nail, Jason came to his side, looking as if something were on his mind. Elliot had never really taken to liking Hamilton, mainly because he wasn't a man of initiative, always following, never standing for himself. He figured that would just make it easier to deal with, unlike Meyer. The less internal conflict the better.

"Elliot, we need to talk."

"What is it Hamilton?" Elliot responded, still nailing.

Jason was hesitant. "I think I may know how all of this started...the zombies that is"

Elliot stopped hammering and looked at Jason. Meyer had stopped too and was eying them with a degree of interest. Only David continued working, meticulously pounding nails into the wood, his Mossberg hanging loosely from its shoulder strap.

"What are you talking about?"

"There was a reporter among the survivors we brought in-Ben Bertolucci, he gave me some information that implements Umbrella in this..."

Elliot was stunned. _Umbrella? The largest pharmaceutical company on the planet, responsible for some of the most cutting edge innovations in medical history, not to mention the biggest philanthropist of Raccoon City. Umbrella..._

"Implements them how?" Elliot asked.

"I really don't know all of the details. Apparently, there was a mansion in the Arklay Forest that Umbrella had used to develop a virus. It spilled into the city, causing all of this. Chief Irons was in on it, Umbrella payed him off when all of those murders were happening. It's all a big cover-up."

_Just what the hell is he babbling about!? _

"So then that means the S.T.A.R.S. were right all along..." Meyer whispered.

Elliot and Jason looked at him.

"After the S.T.A.R.S.'s investigation into those murders back in the summer, they were discredited, ridiculed, and suspended. Some good men died on that night. Edward, Forest, Enrico, Richard, Joseph, the list could go on and on, family men, men with honor, men with loyalty, brave men, and you mean to tell me Chief Irons just swept it under the rug to cover Umbrella's mistake!?"

Elliot waved him off. "Listen, we don't know whether or not any of this is true any-way. Where is this Bertolucci guy? I want to talk to him."

Meyer was infuriated. He grabbed Elliot by the collars and forced him against the gore splattered walls in a blind fit of rage.

"Just how much proof do you need!?" He screamed. "Why don't you just open your fucking eyes, here's all the proof you need right here!? Just what is wrong with you huh!?

Jason tried to come in between the two men, but to no avail. David was still calmly working, placing board after board in total silence, oblivious to the conflict happening around him.

"Get off of me!" Elliot cried. He could feel Meyer's hands enclosing around his throat, choking him.

_He's...gonna...kill me... _Elliot thought drastically. His hand still clutched the hammer he was using to board the windows. He swung the hammer up in one def motion----------

----------and narrowly missed crushing Meyer's skull as Jason managed to separate the two. Jason stood in the middle as Meyer and Elliot viciously leered at one another.

"What is wrong with you two!?" Jason screamed. "We already have enough troubles without us killing each other!"

Elliot rubbed his sore neck, and right then, wished death upon Meyer. It didn't matter how or when, but he just wanted Meyer dead. _If it comes to it..._

Elliot's police radio buzzed to life. Another burst of static and the anguished cries of their colleagues echoed over the radio.

_**...Elp...Ellio...we ...eed...**_

_B Squad..._

Meyer and Jason were already moving for the door. David was behind them, slinging his Mossberg into action. "Let's go Elliot..." Meyer demanded.

_Not again._

Elliot just stood there, planted in place. It was the fear rising up, the fear of those dreaded things, tearing, gnashing...

"Look, if you just want to stand there and be some coward, be my guest, but I'm not just going to stay in this hell-hole and die. No one is going to stand in my way. I don't care if it's zombies, chief Irons, even Umbrella itself, no one is going to stop me!"

He barreled through the door, the other two in toe.

_Damn it..._Elliot thought sullenly. He quickly followed them to Squad B's location, silently cursing the mans bravery.

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

David Ford was feeling an adrenaline rush like no other as he raced through the Raccoon City Police Department hallways. It was the same adrenaline rush he had been feeling for the past two days, kept on edge ever since the zombie infiltration first started. David was one of the first officers on the streets during the initial out-break. He remembered the way the zombies had spread like wildfire throughout the city, hunting every-body indiscriminately. The fact that the dead eventually rose among the zombies ranks only compounded the problem. He remembered unloading his Mossberg countless times, so much that he eventually became immune to its devastating effect.

_The first blast he shot with a heavy heart._

_The second with survival in mind._

_The third with a tinge of excitement in his gut._

_...And after that, it became like a game._

Turning zombies into "fertilizer" as he called it. Unloading round after round, it was becoming an unavoidable task. David could care less about Elliot's and Meyer's machismo out-pourings, all he wanted to do was shoot something.

As they zeroed in on squad B's position, David could feel the adrenaline rising even further. His hands were shaking, and his heart was thumping against his chest.

_This is it..._He thought nervously. The cold weight of his Mossberg was comforting as he held it in his clammy hands. _This is it!_

Jason and Meyer took point while Elliot cowered behind them. Meyer, and Jason rushed into the corridor, guns raised. It was an expansive passageway with light tan walls, and unlike the last corridor they barricaded this one had a a set of electronic steel shutters covering the windows. Some-how or another, they had been raised, allowing the zombies to attack. David was expecting no less than a tragedy as they stormed the hall-way, and that was exactly what they saw. All the members of Squad B lay slain before them, zombies hunched over their lifeless bodies, feeding. At the sound of their entering, the zombies lifted their disfigured heads, their rotting gaping, mouths already hungry for new blood.

Beside him, Meyer was already springing into action. David watched as a bloody hole appeared in one of the zombies fore-heads. It crumpled to the floor, life-less again.

_Damn that guy is good._

David raised his shotgun and fixed his sights on a zombie in the remains of a tattered business suit. He set the stock firmly against his shoulder, braced himself for the kick...

**BOOM!!**

The blast exploded the zombies head. It fell to its knees and over on its side. _More fertilizer. _He cocked his Mossberg and unloaded on another zombie, knocking it back as its chest was obliterated in a hail of pellets. More and more zombies were coming in through the windows, crawling over each other, ripping them-selves open on broken glass. As they continued to shoot one of Jason's bullets came dangerously close to hitting the control switch for the windows automatic shutters.

"Watch the breakers!" Meyer screamed at them.

The zombies swarmed into the hallway, congesting the passageway with their putrid bodies.

_They're getting too deep. _David thought frantically. Despite their slow and unsteady movements they were still formidable enough. David's hands were becoming increasingly unsteady. He fired his Mossberg, and the shot went wide, missing his intended targets head and hitting another.

_Concentrate..._

The zombies that were permeating through the broken windows were becoming clogged by their own unintelligible actions. Their grisly hands swiped the air in front of them in a futile attempt of action.

"I'm going to close the shutters! Cover me!" Meyer ordered.

Before they could say anything, Meyer darted through the multitude of corpses, skillfully dodging the hands that reached for him. Beside him, Jason continued to fire away, keeping the wraiths at bay. Meyer managed to make it across the hall-way unscathed. He fumbled with the control panels switches, finally managing to lower the steel shutters. David watched as the zombies stuck in the windows became crushed under the shutters heavy weight. The sickening sound of bones being crushed echoed over the zombies moans. David was so transfixed by the macabre scene that he did not see the zombie itching towards him until it was too late.

It lunged for him, grasping its rotting hands around his shoulders. David brought his Mossberg up to shield himself from the things gnashing jaws. The stock of his weapon went wild in the struggle, striking Jason in the temple. He went down as David continued to wrestle with the zombie. The zombies thrashing jaws latched onto his Mossberg, relentlessly biting into its hard surface. The zombie was over-powering him, knocking him backwards with every violent thrust: he wouldn't be able to keep it off of him for long.

It wasn't until he heard the shot and saw the zombies head snap forward that he realized that Meyer had saved his life. He stood on the opposite end of the corridor, gun raised, with a look of sheer determination in his eyes. That was the last time David had saw him, as the remaining zombies obscured his view. David aimed his Mossberg at the back of one of their heads and pulled the trigger, and was rewarded with an audible click.

_Shit!_

He fumbled for his ammunition pouch, wrapping his cold, sweaty fingers around a fresh shell. He took out a shell and tried to reload, only to drop it out of his unsteady hands. David watched in horror as the zombies continued to surround Meyer. Gunshots could still be heard coming from the wall of un-dead but any attempt he was making to save his life was futile. Then, like a miracle, Meyer was able to bursts through the mob of zombies. His uniform was ripped in bloody and deep wounds covered his body, but there was still the same irrevocable strength on his face. Their eyes met, and at that moment, David felt like shit. He had panicked in the middle of combat, and had cost Meyer his life.

His Mossberg hung limply at his side as the throngs of zombies enveloped Meyer once more. This time, there was no escape. The sound of his flesh being ripped from his body could be heard over the terrible moans. _He had died trying to save us..._

This realization made David drop to his knees, oblivious to the zombies just in front of him.

_Meyers dead...I could have saved him..._

He felt hands grab him by his shoulders and pull him back. Davids head lazily rolled back to see the shocked, inverted face of Elliot dragging him away from the carnage. He also dragged the prone body of Jason away, displaying an unbelievable burst of intensity. Elliot barely pulled his fellow officers out of the corridor when the zombies came for them, their angry cries echoing throughout the precinct, but David was not listening, he wasn't hearing a single sound...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The precincts operation room was a mess. Many of the rooms desk were toppled over to the floor and voluminous amounts of papers relating to the city outbreak lay scattered about the room. Reports relating to the polices efforts to eliminate as many zombies as possible in "Operation: Mop-up," road block manifestos, attendance sheets, all pointless, as many of the Raccoon City police officers were already dead.

David and Elliot sat in this operations room. Ever since Meyers death, David's demeanor had taken a drastic turn for the worst. His steel gray eyes were bloodshot from tears and he practically hugged his Mossberg to his body like a mother nestling a new born. He had even succumb to drinking a bottle of whiskey he had found laying around.

"You shouldn't be drinking that..." Elliot said matter of factly.

David would just sit there, completely unaware of what Elliot had said. He took a powerful swig of the dark liquor and continued to stare off into space.

Elliot knew David blamed him-self for Meyer's death, even he felt responsible. Elliot was trying to justify his actions in his mind, telling him-self that Meyer was too dangerous, too much of a loose cannon...too brave.

Elliot felt the tears roll down his cheeks. Meyer had been _too brave. _He had sacrificed his life to save David, Jason, and even Elliot, and that was why Elliot hated him. Because he will never know why he did it.

_He was loyal to the end, never faltering in his duty..._

Elliot placed his hands over his eyes and silently bawled. _Damn you Andrew Meyer! Damn you for making me feel this way! _

What made matters worse was the fact that Meyer's sacrifice was in vain. The shutters only managed to temporarily halt the zombies progress, as they eventually made their way into the east wing of the precinct. Their wretched moans flooded Elliot's mind, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

_Please God. Just let me see one more day. _He silently prayed.

"...I could have saved him."

David's voice broke through the silence of the operations room. His voice was flat and monotonous, expelling no emotion. Elliot wiped his eyes and looked at David, still clutching his Mossberg and whiskey, his only two life-lines in the world.

"Don't blame your-self Dave, it's not worth it."

David was rocking back and fourth, still staring at nothing.

"I watched him die..." He continued, ignoring Elliot's plea.

Elliot tried to chose his words carefully, but knew that what-ever comfort he could bring his colleague would be superficial. Ultimately, he were responsible for Meyer's death, and ultimately, he were going to have to live with it.

"Listen Dave...don't beat your-self up over it. Please, it's not worth it. What matters now is finding a way out of this mess, ok?"

David brought the bottle up to his mouth and took another drink. Elliot watched as his throat pulsated back and fourth, rhythmically taking in the strong liquor. He drank until there was nothing left, then tossed the useless bottle against the wall, shattering it on impact. He placed his head down against the stock of his Mossberg and cried.

"I...I, don't...know...what happened...to...me..." He said in between sobs. "I...froze...up...oh God!"

Elliot got up and from his seat and moved closer to David. He wanted to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, tell him that everything was going to be alright. Upon seeing Elliot's close proximity, David tensed, aiming the barrel of his Mossberg directly at him.

"Stay...back...pl...please. Just stay...back!"

Elliot immediately recoiled. "Take it easy Dave." He soothed.

David's eyes were wild and un-focused. He looked like a man on the edge, and the slightest bit of agitation could send him tumbling off. He lowered the Mossberg, and fixed his intense gaze on Elliot.

"Just take it easy man..." Elliot continued. "It's going to be alright."

"No, it's not alright!" David spat. "Don't you see? It's so dark. Our chances of survival are so dark...Elliot...none of us are going to make it out of here alive..."

The way David looked at his Mossberg sent a shiver down Elliot's spine. He knew exactly what was running through David's mind...

"There's always another way...we're going to get through this."

David wasn't listening. He continued to stare at his Mossberg with sick affection.

Elliot tried to come up with the words to empower him, to save him from him-self, when he heard the gunshots. Elliot whipped his head to the doors entrance. _That sounded like it came from the main hall..._

"David, the others might be in trouble, let's go!"

David wasn't moving. He continued to leer soothingly at his gun.

"David, please..." The gun-shots continued. Elliot made his way to the operations rooms entrance. He took one last look at his comrade.

"Don't you fucking die on me Dave! I'll be back!"

And Elliot rushed out of the room, heading towards the direction of the shots.

_Don't you die on me Dave..._

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

Jason, Martinez, Anna, and George sat with the survivors in the detectives room. Anna was busy applying first-aid to Jason's temple. David's Mossberg had rocked him pretty hard, nearly knocking him unconscious. Unfortunately, he was still alert enough to see the zombies encompass Meyer, hear the sound of them ripping and tearing at his flesh...

Jason fought back tears as Anna swept a reassuring hand gently through his hair. _Meyers dead. _Jason thought glumly. _Andrew Meyer, the best marksmen on the police force, the loose cannon, the resilient, cool headed Andrew Meyer...dead._

"It's ok." Anna soothed. When Elliot brought Jason and David back to the main hall, the shocked, defeated looks on their faces told them the tragic story. The fact that Meyer didn't come through those doors only concreted their fears.

Jason felt himself relaxing at the soft touch of Anna's hand. She applied a head-wrap around his bruised temple and smiled.

"Wow, you must have took a real nasty blow." She said, trying to start conversation.

"Yeah..." Jason replied laconically.

The door to the detectives room opened and Elran came bustling in. He was a mousy looking young man with carefully groomed brown hair and a youthful face. Right now, he had a look of fear etched across his young features. He walked to George, who was busy chatting with Martinez.

"I saw something..." Elran told George frantically.

"What?" George asked, somewhat annoyed by Elran's interrupting his conversation.

"I was going to the evidence room to search for supplies, you know. I went through the receptions room and I saw something crawl past the window in the back. It looked like a human figure, but it was pink. I only saw it for a second but-----"

George cut him off. "Show me what you're talking about." He said, grabbing his Beretta. He took another look at Martinez and nodded. "Tell them." He said.

She glumly nodded as George and Elran left the room.

_Tell us what? _Jason wondered.

He looked at Martinez and noticed that she her-self was looking worse. Her once tanned complexion had become deathly pale, and dark circles enveloped her light brown eyes. She wore an old Raccoon City University sports jacket over her uniform despite the warm temperature in the room. Upon noticing Jason studying her she meekly smiled and made her way to the two of them.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to keep it a secret from you guys..." She said, settling down next to them.

"Keep what a secret?" Anna asked.

Martinez slowly raised the sleeve of her jacket up and revealed a make-shift bloody band-aid wrapped around her fore-arm.

"The little girl...she got me."

_Oh no..._

The pain was evidently clear in all of there eyes. Anna covered her mouth in horror and Jason diverted his gaze, disgusted.

"Oh no...no...no!" Anna trembled. "How did this happen!?"

"I let my guard down. She...she _changed _before I had time to react. I had...I had to-----"

She closed her eyes, shaken by the events she had gone through.

"Look, this isn't over yet." Martinez said strongly with a gleam in her eyes. "I'm not dead yet, and I want to see this through to the end."

"But what about when the time comes..." Jason asked. Anna eyed him spitefully for being so tactless, but Martinez stayed resolute.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Suicide is definitely out of the question, I could never do anything like that. But when the time comes...I'm sure you all will know what to do..."

They sat around each other, silent. _At least the survivors were in high spirits. _Jason thought. The air buzzed with the energy of conversation. People were excitedly talking amongst them-selves, recounting tales of how they got to the precinct, finding common interest, and becoming friends. One group of particularly young teens were laughing hysterically as if they were on a night out in down-town Raccoon.

"Wow, these people seem so happy." Martinez said, breaking their private silence. "Do you remember when we first brought these people here? All the confusion, fear, anger---it's gone now."

Jason nodded his head. The situation had taken a turn for the better since arriving in the precinct. The hostility and animosity that was present amongst the survivors when they first arrived had been replaced with a new found sense of trust, and more importantly, hope.

"Every-body, can I have your attention!?" One of the teens shouted. It was a pretty young blond girl in a designer Cashmere blouse and skirt. She spoke with a stereotypical SoCal accent, and despite her disheveled appearance still resonated the image of a typical up-beat blond. Upon hearing her request everyone in the room came to a hush and laid their eyes upon her.

"My friends and I have decided to put on a free concert just for you guys!"

There were a few groans of disappointment from the crowd. The blond looked at them in mock contempt.

"What!? You guys don't think I can sing!?"

"NO!" A voice shouted from the other survivors. A wave of laughter erupted amongst the rest of the people and Jason found himself relaxing at the calm, friendly atmosphere. _To be a teenager again. _Jason thought sentimentally. Their parents were probably dead, their lives turned up-side down and shattered, and here they were, trying to have some semblance of a good time. The young blond wasn't hearing any of it. She grabbed one of her male friends and they climbed atop the junky table.

"Come on Steve, let's show them how it's done!"

She started singing the lyrics to one of the newest pop songs in an uncannily high pitched voice. More laughter erupted from the survivors, and even some haughty cheers and whistling. Her friend joined her in singing and began to dance in jerky, uncoordinated motions.

"God bless them." Martinez said, trying to catch her breath after laughing.

_Thud..._

Jason looked at the air vent above the singing teens. He could have swore he heard something just now, but it was hard to discern over all of the cheers.

They continued dancing, lost in their own little world of music. Steve motioned for Martinez to join them on the table, beckoning her with questionable gestures.

"Come on Mamacita!" He urged.

Martinez laughed and politely waved him off. Jason admired her strength. Here she was, a woman facing imminent death, and she still beamed with energy and high spirits.

"That's ok, I'm probably too much for you any-way _chico_!" She replied.

He heartedly laughed and continued dancing. Every-body was into their performance now, clapping their hands along to their rhythm and singing along, things were starting to look up.

Jason was about to go fetch Elliot and David when the cover to the ventilation shaft blew off. A pink rope like _thing_ darted out of the shaft above the teens. They barely had time to react when the flailing appendage found its mark in the blonds neck, severing her head clean off. It continued through her neck and severely lashed her friend Steve's throat, his head still being connected by a few inches of muscle and bone.

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

What-ever serenity that had over-come the survivors was dead, replaced by sheer chaos and hysteria. Jason had time to see the thing emerge from the ventilation shaft. It resembled the thing Elran had said that he saw; humanoid, with pink, rough skin. The characteristics that took Jason totally by surprise was its visible, creased brain set atop its eyeless head and its elongated tongue which had been used to kill the two teens whipped about furiously from its razor sharp mouth. It crawled out of the wall like some sort of demonic spider and let loose a hideous shriek.

Jason could feel arms tugging him to his feet and towards the entrance. The survivors were all running into the main hall, screaming bloody murder at the top of their lungs. As Jason, Anna, and Martinez made their way after them, Jason caught a glimpse of one of the pink monsters fly off of the giant stone fountain and land on a man, sinking its razor sharp teeth into his head.

_Shit! There's more of them! _Jason thought drastically. Another one climbed over the statues vessel while another crept about in the main halls mezzanine.

"Get the survivors to safety!!" Jason shouted to Anna and Martinez. Their was too much commotion happening for the survivors to be reasoned with. One woman was eviscerated through her abdomen by the impossibly long tongue.

_They're being slaughtered..._Jason thought hopelessly. He pointed his gun to the closets one on the statue and fired. The thing shrieked in agony as a round tore through its sinewy flesh. It lash its tongue menacingly as Jason fired again, this time tearing two holes through its exposed brains. He could still hear the screams of the survivors as they ran about like mice in a maze, being picked off one by one the the horrid new threat.

Anna and Martinez took cover behind the large receptions desk and fired away at the creature hidden in the mezzanine. Martinez's shots were wide and missing their mark, chipping granite from the balcony.

"Get down!" He screamed at the two of them. Jason had an idea. He was going to try to lead those things way from them, and towards the operations room where David and Elliot were holed up, they were going to need all the help they could get. Anna and Martinez ducked their heads behind the desk as Jason continued to shoot at the thing in the mezzanine. The door to the detectives room creaked and groaned from the pressure of the first one they encountered and the other two in the main hall continued to feast on the remains of the survivors.

_4 in all..._

Jason raced through the double doors leading to the west wing of the precinct. He could hear the claws of those monsters ripping into the granite as they pursued him. He bounded past the secretaries desk, behind the wooden panel separating the front and back of the room, and stopped dead in his tracks. Juxtaposed on the outside of the window was one of those things, its tongue licking the glass and leaving slimy, yellowish streaks upon its surface. Jason was contemplating going any further when the slash of air directly above his head bolted him into action. He hurried for the door adjacent to the window, silently praying that the monstrosity wouldn't break through.

He made it through the door, the thing on the other side letting out a shriek of anger as its prey eluded it. As he turned to lock the door behind him, thick hands took hold of his body. One of the hands covered his mouth as he let out a muffled yell of surprise. A heavy impact collided with the door on the other side as the three monsters tried to force their way in.

"Shhhhhhhhhh..." The voice commanded. It was George.

He slowly lifted his hand from his mouth and let him go. The door continued to strain under the weight from the other monsters.

"They can't see...they use sound to detect us..." George whispered, almost to himself. "Look..."

George nodded to the hall-way abutting the leading to the evidence room and west side of the building. Jason peered around the corner, and gasped in horror.

Elran was standing in the middle of the hall-way, trapped by one of the things that clung to the ceiling directly above him. Its long tongue slowly lashed the air in front of him, coiling about his body like an organic lasso. Elran was shaking like a leaf; one wrong move and he was dead.

"Why didn't you try to save him?" Jason whispered as silently as he could.

"I dropped my gun when that thing got the jump on us." George said through clinched teeth. Jason could make out the shape of a gun laying further down the hall. He slowly inched forward into the hall and drew his own gun.

"What are you doing!?" George whispered tensely.

Jason targeted the things exposed cerebrum and fired twice. The creature lost its balance on the ceiling and fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Elran ran past it with a burst of speed, heading towards the west side barricade.

"Elran, No!!" Jason screamed.

Before Jason could fire again, the creature lashed its tongue towards Elran, decapitating him in one swift motion. His body fell with an audible thud as his head flew threw the air, landing and rolling to where Jason could see the shock frozen on his face. Another loud thud came from behind the door and this time the wood splintered and broke underneath the bodies.

"We can't hold them much longer!" George screamed. There was no more use in whispering, the thing already knew they were there.

_This is it. We're trapped. The three behind us will burst in any second and the one in the corridor was aware of their presence. This is it..._

The door at the other end of the hall erupted open, and Elliot bounded inside. He stopped cold in his tracks upon seeing the creature and drew his weapon. The creature arched its back like some sort of monstrous feline and pounced towards Elliot. It would be on him in an instant-----

-----a figure moved behind Elliot. Jason could make out the colors of a Raccoon City police uniform.

"Get down!" The figure demanded.

Elliot ducked just in time as a thunderous boom echoed through the hall and knocked the monster back several feet. Killing it.

_David!_

He cocked his Mossberg and beckoned for George and Jason to come to him and Elliot. They pushed off the door and rushed into the hall. The splintering wood of the door behind them became a deafening crunch as the creatures knocked the door straight off of its hinges. Jason and George barreled down the hall with the creatures right behind them. David had his Mossberg held high...ready to fire-----

**BOOM!!**

The round went over their heads and found its mark in one of the creatures that had jumped for them. Jason and George took a diving slide as David continued to un-load on the creatures, splattering blood and gore every-where.

When he finished, nothing that wasn't human moved in the hall-way. David stood there, smoke still lingering from the barrel of his Mossberg and a blank expression on his face.

"I've redeemed myself..." He said flatly. Then, before any-one could stop him, David Ford turned the Mossberg on himself and put the barrel in his mouth.

"DAVID NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Elliot cried.

The shot blew straight threw his head, splattering the wall with blood and skull fragments. The three of them stood there in utter shock as his body fell to the floor, no life present in his wide, gray eyes.

Questions flooded Jason mind by the second, contemplating why his colleague would take his own life.

_Why?...we could have made it out of here...why did he do it?...why...?_

Elliot was the first to move. He grabbed the Mossberg from David's dead hands and took the barrel out of his destroyed mouth. He unstrapped David's ammunition pouch and put it around his shoulder; David wasn't going to be needing it. He wasn't going to be needing any-thing any-more.

"I'm finished crying." Elliot said through a breaking voice. "We're getting out of here. I swear to God on my soul...we're getting out of here...


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**September 29th, 1998**

The morale amongst the surviving members of the Raccoon City Police Department was extremely low. They all sat in the operations room, slowly feeling the hope fade away.

Jason winced as the thought of David's suicide flooded his mind. He looked around the room at his fellow officers, desperately trying to shove those horrible images out of his mind.

George sat in the back of the room, a look of fatigue on his bearded face. There was no more jokes from him, no more hearty, fatherly chuckles emanating from him. He had become a shell of his former self ever since David's death, the only thing on his mind survival. Anna had an affirming arm around Martinez's shoulder, who was really looking worse for wear. Jason didn't know how long the infection rate spread among victims, but judging from what he had seen and her pale, weak appearance, she didn't have long. Elliot stood in the front of the room, arms folded across his chest in deep concentration.

Ever since the out-break had first started, he seemed to be the leader of their survival. There had been times where he butted heads with Meyer and George, but that was all over now. Meyer was dead and George was far too shell-shocked to lead anything. Right now he stood with an air of confidence and security, though Jason wondered how much of it was real or just bravado.

"Okay people, I'm going to keep this short and sweet. We lost a lot of officers coming into this situation, and at the moment we have to assume that none of the survivors made it...there's no one left to protect..." Elliot said in a soft but confident tone. "We have to look after our-selves now, look after each other..."

_The survivors..._

When Jason, Elliot, and George made their way back into the main hall, they found Anna and Martinez ashen faced and shivering. When they searched the perimeter, they discovered the mauled bodies of several of the survivors, killed by the creatures with the elongated tongues. The rest of the survivors ran through the entrance and into the night, they could be any-where. Elliot was right: there was no-one left to protect but our-selves and each other. He felt ashamed thinking that because he knew it was his moral and civic duty to serve and protect, but he knew that it was the cold truth.

"I recommend a plan of action; a plan of escape." Elliot said. He reached into his pocket and produced a map of the precinct. Judging from its white coloring and texture this must have been a copy of the renovated station. He placed it on the chalk-board and continued.

"The streets are still way to dangerous to navigate, and with the road-blocks and debris scattered about every-where, we won't make it far no how. That's why I think the safest way out of the precinct would be going through the sewers..."

Jason felt a cold stab of fear in his body. _The sewers? Is he crazy? _No-one protested, they just sat there, whether listening intently or lost in their own musings unknown.

"Now, normally, the easiest way to reach the sewers through the station would be to access the man-hole through the kennel, but with all of the zombies and those...those other _things _roaming the halls that wouldn't be such a hot idea, but there's a short-cut."

Elliot planted his finger on the entrance to the station and ran his finger along the side.

"Once we leave the precinct, we take a right through the court-yard and to the underpass beneath the main entrance. There's a ventilation hole there that leads right into the parking garage. From there, we make our way into the holding cells, and to the kennel."

Jason admired Elliot's resourcefulness, even if he wasn't so keen on traveling through the sewers.

"Are there any objections?"Elliot demanded. Again, Nobody raised concern.

"Good. I want a full count of supplies and ammo. No use going into this if we're not prepared."

After checking ammo, supplies, and cleaning weapons, Elliot beckoned for them to move out. Anna protested, stating that it would be better to get some rest and wait until morning.

"All I'm saying is that I think it will be a good idea to wait until morning. We can't go out there, especially in the condition that Penelope is----------"

Elliot cut her off. "Don't use Martinez as your smoke screen. If you're scared, I don't blame you. I'm scared, we're all scared, but we have to get out of here as soon as possible. Those things are flooding the station and if we stay here we're just waiting to die."

Anna's face blushed and she stared down at the floor with a look of shame in her eyes.

"Don't worry about me Anna..." Martinez piped up. Jason felt concern when he heard the slight slur in her voice. "Like I said, I want to see this through to the end."

"Alright...let's head out. I'll take point." Elliot ordered.

They filed out of the operations room. Sixteen police officers dwindled down to five trying to run for their lives. This was their last escape. Jason was putting all of his fate into Elliot, they just had to make it out of this alive.

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

The five police officers made their way through the set of teal double doors and out into the night air of Raccoon City. Thankfully, the creatures with the pink tongues had disappeared. Jason took a giant whiff of the semi fresh air. The fresh scents of late Autumn mingled with the smell of rotten flesh and smoke. _How long has it been since I've stepped foot outside? Three days? Four days? _Jason didn't know. The days seemed to bleed together ever since they first arrived at the station.

The street beyond the precincts gates were a mess. Remains of vehicles and other junk littered the road. Jason could make out the top of a fire engine implanted right through a building about a block away. Perhaps what was most frightening was the hordes of zombies that hung around beyond the precincts gates. Upon seeing them they threw their bodies up against the steel bars, mercilessly crying for blood. Jason instinctively raised his weapon to fire but was stopped but Elliot.

"They can't hurt us. Come on, we have to get moving."

They followed Elliot around the precincts court-yard and down into the underpass beneath the entrance. Elliot had David's Mossberg held high, ready to blast anything that leaped out at them, but he never had the chance to. They gathered beneath the underpass. Pale moonlight illuminated the outline of a small ventilation shaft set into the stone wall. It was still enough light to see but Jason found him-self wishing that they had bought flash-lights.

"I'll go first and see if the coast is clear." Elliot offered.

He dropped to his belly and crawled head-first into the shaft. There was a brief silence as he made his way to the other side, then his muffled voice: "all clear."

Anna went second, followed by Martinez, who had to be helped down to the floor, then George. Jason went last, getting down and crawling on the rough concrete. He could see his colleagues legs standing in-front of the shaft. As he made his way out through the other side into the parking garage, he let out a gasp of surprise at what he saw.

_Oh my God..._

Several bodies lay before them. Jason recognized them as some of the survivors that they had brought into the station what had seemed like years ago. He stared at them with a sinking feeling in his heart.

There were no external wounds on the victims. Their faces bared no sign of suffering either, just a look of serenity. He placed his index and middle finger on the neck of a young man and felt for a pulse, any-thing. After several attempts, he gave up. These people were dead, but what had killed them?

Jason stared around at the others, who were just as confused as him. Suddenly, a shrill alarm ripped through the silence of the parking garage.

"What's going on!?" Anna screamed over the blaring siren.

"I don't know!!" Elliot responded.

"**WARNING." **A mechanical voice said over the precincts P.A. System. **"WARNING."**

A burning sensation filled Jason's lungs. The other officers revolted in pain, sputtering and coughing violently. A thin yellowish haze was settling over the parking garage, and Jason knew exactly what had killed these people.

"Gas!" Elliot yelled.

The four police officers ran for the doors that connected to the precincts prisons cells, trying not to breath in the horrible gas that had overtook the parking garage.

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

They made it through to the row of prison cells, still trying to catch their breaths from the acrid gas.

"What was that!?" Anna managed to choke out.

"I don't know. Probably the stations new security measures that were used to ward off the zombies." Elliot responded. "Some security measures. The damn thing almost killed us!"

As they continued to collect them-selves, a voice called out from the back of the rows of prison cells.

"Is somebody there? Hello?"

Jason instantly recognized the voice.

"Ben? Is that you?" Jason called.

The five of them made their way to the back of the cells. Ben Bertolucci was sitting on a bed in the last row. He smiled as he saw officer Hamilton.

"Small world, eh?" He said coyly. His slack pony-tail was frazzled in some places and he look exhausted. Still, he resonated the air of optimism that he had when Jason first met him.

"Elliot, this is Ben Bertolucci. He's the one that supplied me with the information about Umbrella."

Elliot walked to the bars and studied the man.

"Bertolucci huh? You were with the survivors when we brought you all to the precinct. Why did you take off like that?"

"Like I told your friend here. I was looking for more evidence that implemented Umbrella in this out-break, something concrete, and I found it..."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "What kind of evidence?"

Bertolucci reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"I did some sleuthing around Chief Irons office. He wasn't in there, but I did manage to find these interesting letters." He slipped it through the bars into Elliot's out-stretched hand.

Elliot read it, his eyes growing wider and wider with every sentence.

"Christ..." He breathed. "This proves it. Not only was Irons working for Umbrella but Captain Albert Wesker too!"

Jason's jaw dropped. _The S.T.A.R.S. were right. It was all just a big cover-up. Wesker and Irons, working with Umbrella the whole time, so many dead..._

Bertolucci snatched the letters out of Elliot's hand.

"It's a deep hole, all right." Bertolucci said dryly.

"But one that we're willing to explore. Come on, we're getting out of here through the sewers." Elliot retorted.

Bertolucci shook his head and waved him off.

"No way, I'm not going any-where!"

Elliot was taken aback. "Don't be ridiculous! You just can't stay here!"

"Oh yes I can. It's too dangerous out there."

Elliot stayed resilient in his demand. "Look, I'm not just going to leave you in there to die. Where's the key to this thing?"

Bertolucci pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and jiggled them in front of Elliot. "I ain't going no-where."

"Damn it!" Elliot angrily kicked the bars to his cell.

Bertolucci put the set of keys back into his pocket. "You mean to tell me that it's just the five of you? Where is every-one else?"

Jason could see Elliot's anger disappear into a look of despair. "There is no-one else...all of the other cops and survivors are dead."

A flash of sadness darted across the reporters eyes. "You're shitting me! How did it happen!?"

Elliot ignored his question, still visibly disturbed by the images. "Look, we're getting out of here, you have a choice: you can either come with us or wait until this whole damn precinct becomes over-run and then there'll be no escape."

Bertolucci just shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry man. But like I said, I ain't going no-where."

Elliot motioned for the others to follow him. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Good luck!" Bertolucci called as they exited the cells and entered the kennel. A rusty man-hole lay dormant in the back of the kennel, their destination

"George, give me a hand with this."

Elliot and George struggled to lift the rust eaten lid. Their biceps strained considerably with much force and finally the rewarding sound of steel against stone could be heard. They lifted the heavy manhole lid and was greeted by a horrible stench. What-ever it was, it wasn't the typical smell of sewage waste, no, there was something else...something _rotten._

The looks on the other officers face told the same story: no-body wanted to go down there. Only Elliot stared into the dark abyss with a look of curiosity.

"So..." He said coolly. "Who wants to go first?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The trek through the Raccoon City sewer system was a perilous one. While the dingy interior of the under-ground was relatively safer than braving the streets, there were undoubtedly horrors lurking beneath the streets of Raccoon as well. A shiver ran down Elliot's spine as he recalled the creatures they had encountered in the sewers. He could still remember the rhythmic _thump thump thump _of their many legs. The sight of their furry bodies and multiple eyes had frozen Elliot in his spot as he tried to comprehend the monstrosity that stood before him.

_Spiders...ewwww. I fucking hate spiders._

He had blasted the thing to bits with his Mossberg, and hastily hurried his comrades to shift their asses into high gear. He wasn't going to be sitting around waiting for more of them to come. After what seemed like hours wading through raw sewage, they finally found pale moon-light emanating from the cover of a man-hole. They had reached the man-hole, and had come up behind Raccoon City University.

The elation that should have surely over-come them was short lived, as Martinez's health continued to deteriorate. Elliot tried to push that matter to the back of his mind, but he knew ignoring it was pointless. It wouldn't just go away, and right now, it had finally come to a head.

Elliot, Jason, Anna, George, and Martinez found refuge in one of the university's studies. It was a cozy, sepia toned room with ornate decors and a fireplace that had long since died out. Martinez lay prone on a sofa while Anna applied a towel to her damp fore-head. It was now or never, she was on her final hours, and when she changed, they were all in danger-----

"-----George...Jason...Anna...leave."

Martinez's voice was barely a whisper and heavily slurred, but still carried a degree of hardness. The three officers solemnly exited the study, leaving Martinez and Elliot alone. She tried to raise from the couch but her failing body was too weak. She plopped back down with a heavy sigh and stared at Elliot with tired, blood-shot eyes.

"It...looks...like this...is...end."

"It's not over until it's over. You said so yourself."

She managed a meek smile and shook her head. "It...is...over. I feel...so...itchy."

A cascade of tears began to run down her beautiful, weary face.

"Oh God! Make...it...stop! It...itches!"

Elliot gripped the Mossberg tightly in his hands, but he found himself unable to use it. To kill one of his own, even if it did mean ending her suffering. She looked at him with pleading eyes...

"Elliot...make...it...stop."

Those were the last words she ever spoke, as rapid convulsion over-took her body. Her once beaming, intelligent brown eyes rolled heavily in her skull as her body continued to spasm. Her chest expelled one last gust of air and her body became still, with her eyes rolled half-way in her head and mouth gaped open.

"Penelope?" Elliot sobbed. "Penelope!?"

Her body twitched once, then a second time with an audible crack. A wet moan escaped her now re-functioning vocal cords as she jerkily sat up, a thick strand of saliva hanging from her bluish lips.

Elliot pointed the Mossberg at her slack, lifeless face and backed away. _Penelope Martinez is dead. I have to do this. _

She fell off the couch with a heavy thud and began to pull her-self unsteadily towards Elliot. Another incomprehensible moan escaped her mouth and Elliot realized that she was making the loneliest, most pitiful sound he had ever heard in his life. He trained the shot-gun on her lifeless face.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorr-----"

The blast erupted even as he was still talking, shattering her head into a confusion of blood, bone, and brain matter. Elliot immediately averted his gaze. There was no more reason to justify his actions, he had did what he had to do. Elliot found a blanket and used it to cover the remains of his fallen officer.

_Rest In Peace._

Elliot thought that he had cried all the tears he had ever had to cry for one life-time, but he was wrong. Never in his entire life had he felt this helpless, this afraid.

_But people are counting on me. I swore on my soul that we would all make it out alive. _

He quickly wiped his tears and began to make his way out of the room to join the others. As he approached the door, however, his police radio crackled to life.

"What the hell?"

There was another burst of static, then the voice of a female permeated through the hand held radio.

"_**...Is any-body there? If you can here me, you have to get out of Raccoon City now! The U.S. government is planning a 'definite quarantine' of the city, once this happens nothing will survive! You have to get out now!"**_

Elliot's blood ran cold. He tensely fumbled for the radio's receiver and talked into it, trying to expel more information from the woman.

"Hello!? Hello!? What do you mean by 'definite quarantine'!? Hello!?"

There was a brief pause on the other end then the voice of the woman became audible again.

"_**Thank God I got through to you! I didn't think there was any-body left. Listen, you have to get out of Raccoon City by dawn of tomorrow morning. The government is planning on launching missiles at the city to ensure that the virus doesn't spread any further. It may already be too late any-way but their desperately trying to find anything to use as a fail-safe. Please, you must leave!**_

"They can't do this! What about other survivors, were you able to reach any-body else.?"

"_**Oh, I've been desperately trying to find others on closed radio frequencies but this is the first time that I've actually gotten through to a real person,------"**_

Elliot could hear the woman sob. Who-ever she was, she was very emotional about her attempts to help any citizens of Raccoon.

"Who are you?" Elliot asked suspiciously. "And how do you know about this missile strike?"

She ignored his question, whether out of haste or purposely eluding Elliot.

"_**Where are you?"**_

"Raccoon City University..."

_**  
"Listen carefully. The military has blocked off stretches of the city going back to a ten mile radius. Do you know where Interstate ten is? Right off the main street of Bybee?"**_

Elliot had spent many nights patrolling that street.

"Yeah,I know where it is."

"_**Okay, you need to get to I-10 before dawn. Do not take the down-town route. That's where most of those things are concentrated. Use the side streets or alleys. I'm pretty sure you can take Keller all the way to Bybee. Stay as far away from down-town as possible, is that clear?"**_

"Very clear. Please, who are you? Just tell me your name..."

There was sigh. _**"If you really want to know, you will make it out alive. Good luck..."**_

"Wait!" It was too late as her end went dead. They were on the clock now.

_A missile strike against the city? This situation couldn't possibly get any worse..._

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

Jason, George and Anna sat out-side of the study, patiently waiting for Elliot to join them. They knew that only one person was coming out of that room, and when they had finally heard the shot-gun blast, Jason prayed that Martinez had finally found peace, that she was finally delivered from her pain.

_We just have to trust Elliot. He can get us through this._

After another few minutes of silence, Elliot emerged from the study, pale faced and visibly shaken.

"Elliot, I'm so so-----" Anna began to say. He cut her off, a frantic gaze in his eyes.

"We have to get out of Raccoon now, tonight..."

Anna stared at him, exasperated. "Elliot! Please, we have to rest, we can't go----------"

Elliot grabbed her by the throat and forced her against the wall.

_What the hell!? _Jason thought frantically.

"Look!! We don't have time!! The government is going to bomb this place straight to hell at dawn and we don't have time to just sit around on our asses!! We have to get out of here!!"

He let her go as George and Jason struggled to free Anna, who stared at Elliot with shocked, gaping eyes. Elliot viciously punched the wall, leaving a hole in the plaster.

"It's true. Some-one got through to me on the police radio. They said at dawn, there's going to be a missile strike on Raccoon. We...we have to leave. Trust me on this one."

Jason could feel the blood drain from his face.

"A missile strike!?" George asked bewildered. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah, 'oh shit' is definitely right." Elliot concurred.

"How are we going to get out of the city?" Said Jason.

"We have to take the streets. It's a big risk, but if we don't make it out we're dead any-way, so let's move it!"

And moved it they did. They ran through the empty halls of Raccoon City University, rushing past the relics of class-rooms and grand trophy cases. They finally reached the front gates of the university, and found it to be in the same dire state as the rest of the city. Several burned husks of cars lay strewn about in the parking lot. One car was wrapped around a campus light-post, seemingly crashed from behind by a----------

_Bingo!_

Sitting about ten feet behind the crumpled car was a Raccoon City Police Department S.W.A.T. van. Its dark blue heavily armored exterior was emblazoned with the seal of the police department and no visible signs of damage could be seen from where it had crashed.

"Head for the van!" Elliot shouted, but they were way ahead of him. They ran towards the open doors of the back and piled in. It was empty except for a crumpled, bloody police uniform and shoes. Elliot went around to the drivers side. _Please let there be keys. _Jason thought. They were rewarded by the revving of the vans powerful engine and a thrust as the van was put into gear.

The elation on Jason's face must have been contagious, as Anna beamed with excitement and even George let a wane smile through his dreary face.

The S.W.A.T. van barreled through the university's parking lot. There was a small window to see out, and Jason watched th----------

_KEEEEERRRRRRRRRCHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!_

The three officers in the back were violently jolted as Elliot crashed through the campuses gates.

"Every-body all right back there!?" He called with concern.

Jason met the bewildered eyes of Anna and George, who despite looking a little shaken were still in one piece.

"Yeah, but please watch it!" Said Jason.

Jason continued to stare out the window. The shuffling frames of zombies could be seen pointlessly trailing there vehicle. There were many more smaller collisions from the front of the van as Elliot ran them over, squashing their decomposing bodies under the giant hull. He wasn't even trying to avoid the zombies stumbling about on the city streets.

_How many are there? Dozens? Hundreds?_

They continued to plow down the streets, crushing anything that got in their way. The streets weren't as bad as they had initially thought. Debris of various sizes littered the road but nothing to big that the van couldn't get through.

"Do you know the route to take out of town?" Jason called from the back.

"Yeah, if we take Bybee, that'll bring us to I-10. The military has a blockade set u----------"

Elliot never finished, as the S.W.A.T. van was rocked with by a tremendous crash. The vehicle spun out of control and landed on its side, throwing the bodies of the officers around like rag dolls. Jason could feel warm blood trickling down his head as he stared at the scene with glossy, unfocused eyes.

The door to the back of the van swung open. Multiple legs were scurrying about out-side of the wrecked van. Jason could make out the figures as they climbed inside of the van.

_Camouflage, helmets, guns...soldiers._

Jason was lifted from the wreckage along with the limp bodies of the other officers. The sound of automatic fire was deafening over the angry moans of the zombies.

"Move out!! Move out!! Get 'em in the truck!!" An angry voice shouted.

As he was being lifted into the truck, Jason slipped into unconsciousness, drifted away from the ensuing battle...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_"Find any ID on 'em?..."_

_"Naw, just a couple of fucking pigs."_

_"Or rats. Rats in a maze."_

_"What happened to the blond chick?"_

_"Warwick took her to the back room, probably having a little fun with her. Hehehehe..."_

The sounds of the voices spurred Jason awake. His head was swimming, and a livid bruise had formed on his head. He opened his groggy eyes and looked around. Elliot and George lay next to him, still concussed. He tried to move but discovered heavy chains obstructing his motions. _What the hell? _Jason stared at his surroundings. They were being held in a dank, dingy room. The smell of mildew hung heavy in the air and rough, uneven concrete dug into his bare arms. A heavy shadow fell over the three officers and Jason finally got a look at their captives.

"Well, well. Looks like you're awake." One of the men said spitefully.

They were dressed in fatigues of the United States military, with dark green and black camo, but there was definitely something _wrong _with them. Their uniforms were adorned with black lettering from a permanent marker. Jason could make out words in the dingy fabric, "KILL, ZED CLEANERS, 09/25/98 NEVER FORGET." Something about the look in their eyes made Jason extremely uncomfortable. One of the soldiers kicked George and Elliot awoke.

"Get the fuck up!!" He shouted. The two officers were jolted awake, confusion etched over there faces.

"Where are we!? What time is it!? What fucking time is!?" Elliot was hysterical, then Jason finally realized why. _Dawn..._The room they were in was windowless, and Jason's sense of time was shot since the crash. If they had indeed lost much time they were in danger of being caught in the missile strike.

The soldier slapped Elliot across the face. "Who you think you hollerin at boy!? Yo pretty little badge don't mean nothin now!"

Jason could see the anger in Elliot's eyes flash but soon dissipate as he tried to reason with their captives.

"Please, you have to listen! The government is planning on launching a missile strike against the city by dawn. We have to get out of here or we're all going to die!"

The soldier scoffed. "We're all going to die anyway. You know how much fucking death and destruction I've seen since I set foot in this shit-hole? Watching my friends getting killed by fucking zombies!? It's over, game over man! Game over!"

"No!! Just because you fucking psychos think it's over, doesn't mean it's over. We're not going to die----------"

The conviction in George's voice was clear but he was cut off by a shot from the soldiers M-16 stock to the ribs. George sputtered and coughed.

"Son of a bitch..." Be breathed.

There was a high pitched scream that came from another room.

_Anna!_

"Anna!!" Jason shouted. "ANNA!!"

The soldier just smiled. "Hope he saves some for the rest of us..."

"You filthy bastards! When I get out of here I'm going to make you pay!!"

The soldier raised his gun menacingly in Jason's direction, ready to bring it down on his skull when the door opened. A sweaty faced soldier ran in gasping for air.

"Boys shot one of the RPG's at a chopper about ten minutes ago. They weren't able to shoot it down but they say some of the cargo it was carrying off its hull was dislodged. They gone to pick it up..."

"Where is it?"

"Boys say it was about a block from that police station."

"Bring that cargo back here ASAP. I want to see what they were carrying. And as for our 'guest,' we'll deal with them in the morning..."

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

**October 1st, 1998**

"**Mission Code XX"**

The minutes bled into hours as they were being held against their will. Anna was finally brought back to them, shivering and eyes filled with fright. Her uniform had been ripped in several places and she was desperately trying to fight the urge to break-down. The soldiers had left them again, left them to wait for the eventual end.

"I'm so sorry..." Said Elliot. "I...I tried. We all tried. It wasn't supposed to end like this..."

They sat in silence for hours. There was nothing to reminiscence about, and nothing left to say. It seemed like any minute now, there surroundings would just be engulfed in a fiery blaze, and it will all be over...

The door to their room burst open. A large man in army fatigues walked into the room. His face was obscured by a shaggy beard and long ratty hair. Upon seeing him Anna cowered into a ball and Jason could see why. The name-tag on the breast of his fatigue read "B. Warwick."

He was followed in the room by two other soldiers. They made their way over to the captive police officers.

"What the hell are you doing with us?" Elliot inquired as Warwick began to undo their chains.

He smiled and continued to unwrap their chains.

"On your feet! _Now..._" He barked.

Jason stood up on unsteady legs while the other soldiers freed Elliot, George, and Anna. Their guns pointed dangerously in their direction, silently warning them against protest. They were led out of the room and down a grimy corridor, and for the first time, Jason was able to see the scene out of a window. Orange rays burnt through the remaining wall of darkness, covering the city in a soft glow. Jason met Elliot's gaze, which was filled with dismay.

They emerged onto a loading dock and out into the cool pre-dawn air. Jason recognized the area that they were in. It was the ware-house district on the out-skirts of down-town. _Not too far from Bybee..._ A large military transport truck was parked in front of the ware-house. Several soldiers were on the back of the truck, hauling a large red container from the back. Its cylindrical surface was heavily scorched but Jason could make out the three interloping crescent symbols and "T-102" written on its surface.

"On your knees..." Warwick hissed.

Jason was staring at the red container, transfixed when he felt the foot kick his knee him, driving him down with great impact. George, Elliot, and Anna were also forced to their knees. Elliot and Jason locked eyes. _You did your best. _Jason thought with pride.

"Thank you..." Jason whispered. Elliot smiled and looked away. The soldiers on the truck continued to struggle with the container. As they attempted to lift it to the ground, it fell off of the truck with an earth-shaking thud. White mist seeped through a crack in the container as the soldiers scrambled to lift it back up.

"Fucking idiots!!" Warwick screamed.

"Sorry general! Jeez, what the hell is in th----------"

A large arm burst through the crack in the container. It wrapped a gloved hand around the soldiers head and squeezed until a horrible cracking sound became audible. It tossed the body away and continued to rip its way out the metal container, it body shrouded by the torrent of white mist.

"What...the...hell!?" Warwick screamed. "FIRE!"

The sound of automatic rounds pierced the early morning air. As the mist dissipated, Jason was finally able to get a view of the creature. It was impossibly tall, bordering eight feet, which contrasted with its considerable bulk and muscles. A brown trench coat clung to its massive body in burnt, melted patches and its right hand was a confusion of serrated claws. But worse of all was its eyes, which were two black coal set in a slack, soul-less face.

"Move!" Elliot ordered while the soldiers were distracted by the monster in front of them. The giant lowered its abdomen, and with a speed impossible for such a large mass launched itself towards the soldiers. It rammed its ample shoulder into one of the soldiers, crushing his body as he went flying back several feet. The other soldiers froze in surprise and fear as the giant turned its blank stare on them.

It swung its giant mass of claws, disemboweling one of the soldiers in one swift motion. They continued to fire as they scattered. Jason, George, Elliot, and Anna made their way to the back of the transport truck. They peered from behind the truck as the giant slaughtered the remaining officers. They watched as Warwick hopelessly fired at the things singed flesh, screaming obscenities at the sky. He continued to fire even as the thing plunged its claws through his stomach like a wet paper bag. It picked his life-less body up and tossed it aside as if he were weightless.

Jason was so gripped by the visceral scene that he didn't see Elliot pushing past him, climbing into the cabin of the transport truck. It was at that time that Jason remembered the deadline..._dawn. _The truck roared to life as the soul-less giant turned its attention on them.

"GO! GO! GO!!" George screamed from the back.

The truck rumbled through the ware-house parking lot and tore through the city streets. Jason could see the giant behind them, bending its legs again, bracing itself...

_Oh no..._

The giant rushed after them in a graceful sprint, its molted feet digging into the concrete. The truck was fast, but the giant was quickly gaining speed, almost halving the distance between them. Jason looked up into the sky, and wondered which was going to be worse; being gutted open by that thing or getting caught in the missile strike. More light burnt in the pre-dawn atmosphere, making their situation more dire.

"It's catching up!" Anna screamed. They didn't have any weapons to keep it at bay, it would be on them in seconds----------

And Jason's heart nearly jumped in his throat out of joy when he saw Elliot turning, saw the white street sign gleaming like a heavenly beacon.

_Bybee..._

There was a heavy thump and the truck sagged as the giant leaped on the back. Its legs were still dangling as it tried to pull itself towards them. There was a terrible screeching noise of bone against metal as its claws bore into the hull, regaining its balance, pulling one of its tree-trunk legs up----------

----------George rushed forward and kicked the monster in the face with all of his might. The giant lost its balance and fell half-way into the street, its claw still stuck into the truck. Suddenly, it darted its other hand forward and with a vice like grip wrapped around George's ankle. George let out a wail of pain as his ankle was snapped from the pressure. George fell to the floor, writhing in agony. The truck was barreling down Bybee at a tremendous speed, swerving into parked cars and any zombies that got in the way.

The giant tried to pull its claw out of the steel while it kept its grip on George, but to no avail.

_It's stuck!_

There was no time to think as Jason launched himself towards the giant and planted both of his feet in the the things life-less face. Amazingly, he kept his balance on the truck traveling at least 70 miles per hour, and even more amazing was the fact that the giant didn't even budge an inch as Jason just bounced off of its copious skull.

Jason brought his foot down on the giants wrist, desperately trying to free George. He stomped again, harder, his foot aching from the cement like skin. The giants claws were breaking the steel hull, wrenching itself free. It let go of George and tried to use its other hand to free itself, its strange muscles rippling with veins from the effort----------

_NOW!!!_

Jason gave one last powerful kick to the giants face. Their was a screeching tear as its claw became dislodged from the hull. It tumbled off the back of the truck, rolling over itself and finally coming to a stop in the middle of the street.

They were coming up to the entrance ramp of I-10. The giant got to its feet and even in the distance Jason could see the two coals watching him. The giant doubled over again, about to begin his death sprint, when Jason saw the two shapes racing across the sky. Two slender black objects, poised next to each other in perfect synchronism.

_Fighter jets..._

Jason watched as several smaller objects were dejected from the jets. He watched those objects glide through the air and connect with various buildings, incinerating them in a fiery blaze. The wall of fire raced across the city, obliterating everything in its path. The truck continued to storm down the expressway, even as the ground beneath them rumbled with intensity from the explosions.

A gigantic shock-wave rocked the truck, a _swoosh _of sound and pressure threatening to explode Jason's ears. He looked back and saw the giant being engulfed in flames, its colossal body ripped apart by the flames. A wave of soot and dust enveloped the truck as Jason threw his body on top of George and Anna. He closed his eyes, fighting the whipping winds of dust and smoke lashing his face. The world was a tempest of noise, the coat of dust settling around them, dispersing...

After several minutes, Jason finally raised his head. He stared in the direction of Raccoon City, only seeing a giant cloud of smoke curling from the once bustling metropolis. The dirty, tear stained faces of George and Anna told the same story. They had survived, but at what price? He had read somewhere that in war, no-body survives. That was exactly what this felt like. Jason feel back into the truck and let out a deep sigh. The early morning sun was starting to break through the sky, and Jason thought that it was the most beautiful sight that he had ever seen in his life.

The drove down the expressway in silence, leaving the burning remains of Raccoon City behind for good.

_It's not over yet. We can't let Umbrella get away with this atrocity. We have to continue to fight, for every innocent life lost, for every fallen comrade...we have to continue this fight._

_Authors Notes:_

Finally finished after what felt like months. Had kind of a writers block near the end, but I think that it turned out pretty well, especially with the inclusion of the Tyrant. I do have plans to write a sequel for _Strength_, but not at the present moment, as I am going to delve into some more Silent Hill fan-fiction and original works. Thanks for checking it out and I hope you had fun reading it just as much as I had fun writing it. Until next time, later.


End file.
